


Big Red Machine

by jumponthechandelier



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Canon: Batman: Arkham Knight (Video Game), Comfort/Angst, F/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26574058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumponthechandelier/pseuds/jumponthechandelier
Summary: Gotham, much like him, will never be normal- it is a cold, corrupted city that harbors many vile things.But Jason could not deny that in the smallest of spaces, cultivated by the right hands, there is a warmth to be found.(Jason Todd x Reader)
Relationships: Jason Todd/Reader, Red Hood/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 100





	Big Red Machine

**Author's Note:**

> "You caught me in the tide, and I caught you. Sheltered by the night, red in tooth and red in claw."
> 
> -Slow Life, Of Monsters and Men

There is a distinctive shiver that moves up his spine, a reactive jerk to either the mild blood loss from his wounds, or the sleet that continues to rain down from the city’s sky. His movements from roof to roof are sloppy, uncaring, and resounding in his head is the gravelly voice of a familial ghost criticizing his actions.

His lips downturn into a scowl, much like his younger self used to, but this is heavier. Weighted.

A safe room awaits him, close and barren, with a mattress on the floor and gaps for Gotham’s winds to find their way in. It is rigged for anonymity and practicality, but it is cold. 

Jason’s eyes, masked by his helmet, instinctually flicker to a building across town. For a moment, stuck in an inner battle with his wants, he stays crouched and immobile.

The sound of half-formed ice patters against a nearby pipe, causing blossoms of phantom pain along previously broken bones and lacerations to push forth. It is a visceral reaction to such a minute thing, but the pitch is too close for him to want anything but to get away from it.

_"It’s been six months now Jason, I think it’s time to face the facts- the old bats has left you behind."_

The memory of creaking, old pipes in Arkham follow him to his destination, and the sound doesn’t stop until his gloved hands work around a shoddy window lock that he knows all too well. Warmth and low-light envelope him, a TV buzzes in the background, and the bedroom that he has entered is expectantly empty. 

He is not shocked to find you pointing a gun at him, _his_ gun, as soon as he rounds the corner into your living space. Jason notices your confident stance and hardened glare seconds before your defenses deflate, and your hands shake as you place the weapon back onto the kitchen counter. There is a part of him that is pleased with your initial response, but as he sees the scattered paperwork littered with information on Sionis, and the dark circles forming under your eyes, the wounds he’s sustained tonight ache slightly more.

A normal life in Gotham is not possible, he reminds himself, but there is a part of him that feels he has made yours worse, not better.

Not _safer_.

“...You’re bleeding.”

Your voice is soft, and it barely carries across the sounds of the late night news. He watches through his helmet as your face contorts in concern, mind scrambling to figure out your next move as you zero in on the slash across his chest. His sigil is barely discernible now, torn in half and colored deeper with blood- his armor cracked.

Jason takes the venom out of his response, as well as he can, but he still hates how he sounds when he finally speaks:

“I’m fine.”

You nod, albeit slowly, and point to the bathroom. “There’s first aid and extra clothes under the sink. If you need help just… just ask, okay?”

He moves quickly, suddenly overcome with guilt for not leaving you to your own devices tonight. What was this now? Three days this week? But as he shuts the door and rips off his helmet and suit, he reminds himself that you _agreed_ to this. You crave your _own_ revenge, and it just so happens that your worlds collided in such a messy fashion.

The water is cold but he doesn’t care, and the blood circles down the shower drain like it always does. 

The thoughts that run through Jason’s head are as irritating as ever, even as he sits on the edge of the tub to mend his wounds. He gets dressed and avoids the mirror, doing the same to the feeling that tells him why he’s really here.

When he finally steps out, he finds you leaning back onto the kitchen counter, tired eyes scrutinizing a list of what he assumes to be warehouse locations. You look up, but only as he moves to stand directly in front of you. 

He _hates_ your reaction.

He hates the way your expression morphs into something softer, the way you immediately put down your work to give him attention that he considers himself to be undeserving of. 

You give warmth even when you have very little left- and he takes it.

Jason reaches out to grab the paper, scrutinizing it before finally speaking up. “Sheldon Park, the steel mill, it’s clear.”

You gingerly reach out to take it back, grabbing the pen behind your ear to scratch out the text. One more off the list. 

But as you put your work down, you don’t ask him a rundown of what happened, you don’t ask if he found anything, you only cross your arms and speak with a voice laced with worry.

“You need to rest, Jason.”

He surprises even himself when he doesn’t just retire to the couch without another word, but instead he looks at you, _really_ looks at you, and speaks in a tone just as softhearted.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t need to do the same.”

Something in you breaks- he can sense it, because he knows you too well not to. 

You’re tired.

You’re both _so_ tired.

He cages you in by bracing his hands on the counter, brushing slightly against either side of your hips as they do so, and his head drops to rest on your shoulder. The small gasp that flies past your lips does not go unnoticed by him, and neither does the slight tensing of your body.

Jason hears nothing but your breathing- no background noise or memory replays, and his eyes remain shut.

He feels you relax, feels your arms lift slowly to gently wrap around his middle. He flinches, but does not protest. Instead he wonders-

_Can you feel his scars through the fabric?_

As if to give him a moment to pull away, to leave, you wait before fully embracing him. Jason doesn’t return it, he finds that he’s not there yet, but he welcomes it, and gives in just enough to move his head to rest in the crook of your neck.

And tonight, even as he deems it a selfish act, Jason Todd allows himself this respite.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in quite a while- things have been hard, but I pieced this together as a jumping off point to go back into my chaptered fics. I haven't written anything for the Batman series before, either, so thank you for reading!


End file.
